


When in Kirkwall

by polytene



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-12
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polytene/pseuds/polytene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>'"It's a spell, I'll fix it, and you can all stop trying to outdo yourselves for my hand in marriage, or whatever this fight is all about."'</em></p><p>Hawke makes a wish and gets more than she bargained for. Hijinks ensue. Written for a prompt on the kmeme, requesting "When in Rome", DA-style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When in Kirkwall

Hawke turned her head to the side. Huh. The naked lady in the middle of Lord Weber's new fountain did look a little bit like Andraste, if you squinted a bit. And mentally subtracted a few pounds, and a few inches of curves from certain key points, although who really knew what size breastplate the blessed Andraste had worn. Unlike the statue, she probably hadn't spent her life dressed only in strategically-placed flowers.

Andraste or not, Marian rather liked it. She'd taken to visiting the fountain every day for a little peace and quiet, away for responsibilities and duty and her slobbering and affectionate warhound. When no one was looking, she dangled her feet in the cool water and let her thoughts drift, and as they so often did, she found herself thinking about him. She hardly dared to think about him in the company of others, in case a treacherous blush gave her away, but alone at the fountain, no one would know if she smiled to herself.

She looked round furtively, to check she was truly alone, and fished a coin out of her coin purse. It was a tarnished copper colour, and she'd never persuaded a merchant to take it as payment for anything. She passed it from hand to hand, then impulsively flicked it towards the fountain, squeezing her eyes shut and hearing it splash into the water.

She waited a moment, opened her eyes, but nothing looked different. What was she expecting? Wishing on coins in a fountain was the sort of foolish game Bethany would play, and all she'd done was wasted her money. She thought better of kicking the fountain, not eager to break her toes, and stalked away before anyone found her staring at it.

*

Sebastian was the first to arrive. She was barely awake when she heard his frantic knocking, still in her housecoat with bare feet and wet hair dribbling down her neck, and she opened the door to find him standing outside, breathing a little harder than usual.

"Marian," he said, and the way he breathed her name in his Starkhaven brogue made the hairs on her neck stand up despite herself. "Forgive the intrusion at this early hour, but I had to see you." She ushered him in, his armour gleaming white and his hair perfectly in place, but there were tired lines on his face.

"Of course," she said, masking her own tiredness as best she could. Sebastian was a loyal companion and an excellent shot, and when didn't she help her friends? He'd seemed more at ease with his path of late, but maybe he'd found some more mercenaries she could sharpen her blade on and put his mind at rest.

He stood in front of the fire, piercing blue eyes gazing into hers. "I have made my choice, Marian," he said. "I will return to Starkhaven and reclaim my throne, for you deserve no less than a prince." He frowned at her silence. "Does this not please you? Haven't you always said I should find my purpose? You have shown me the path I must take."

From somewhere she found her voice. "Isn't this all rather sudden, Sebastian?"

He stared at her, eyes bright. "I had an epiphany. For years I have prayed to the Maker for guidance, and he has seen fit to send it to me. My people need me to return to Starkhaven. And I," he paused to drop to bended knee, gazing up at her, "I need you, Marian. I cannot do this without you. Say you will marry me and return to Starkhaven as my wife."

She covered her mouth with her hand, torn between laughter and horror. Surely this was a joke, but Sebastian's expression was deadly serious, and he wasn't the type to engage in practical jokes. Princess of Starkhaven? She'd rather run naked through the streets of Hightown, and while Sebastian was terribly handsome in that chiselled, high-cheekboned way of his, she'd never pursued him, or given him reason to think she might desire his hand in marriage.

"I'm flattered, Sebastian, really-" she backed away, hoping he would stand up, "-but I can't accept." He got to his feet, but only to move in closer to her, his face inches away.

"You must," he said, imploringly. "You are the only woman I could ever love, Marian, and I don't know how I can follow this path alone." She could swear his words were straight out of one of Isabela's romance novels, with the hero with the soulful blue eyes and the tortured soul only the heroine could mend. Part of her found it hilarious; the other part was getting a good close-up look at his cheekbones, and wondering quietly whether he might continue the plot through to the bit where he swept the heroine up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom for a good ravishing.

Instead, he took her hand and kissed it. "I understand, my love. You must have time to think about this. I have acted with haste, but Starkhaven does not need a princess who makes rash decisions." He looked a little confused, as though trying to convince himself of something he didn't really believe. "I will give you time to think, my lady, but I will return for your answer." He kissed her hand again, and bowed low before he left.

Hawke decided that frankly this was all too much to deal with at this time of the morning. Starkhaven be damned, she was going back to bed.

*

The sun woke her, shining into her bedroom past the drapes she hadn't bothered to close. It was late enough that she really should get up, and it might even be late enough for an early drink. She really wanted an early drink. She set off for the Hanged Man - there was a dwarf there who would find the idea of Sebastian proposing marriage as hilarious as she did, and for that story he'd certainly buy her some ale.

Corff smiled when she walked in, and had her usual ale ready before she even got to the bar. It even looked like he'd found a clean mug to put it in. She picked up a second and took them up to Varric's suite.

"Varric, you will not believe the morning I've had," she said, and Varric looked up from his papers, glasses perched on his nose.

"Hawke! Well if it isn't my favourite refugee made good. I was hoping you'd stop by."

"Not just for the ale, I hope," she said. She sat across from him at the low table, and he pushed aside his papers.

"Not just the ale. Hawke, I have a proposition for you." He looked unusually serious.

"Bandits? Merchant caravans to protect? Buried treasure?" She was hoping it involved bandits. She could take Aveline with her, make a day of it off down the Wounded Coast striking terror into the hearts of men, that sort of thing.

"Not that kind of proposition." Varric looked uneasy; his eyes flickered to his crossbow, standing in the corner as always, and then back to Hawke. "It's more of a partnership deal."

Hawke frowned. "Varric, if you have cashflow problems, I'm always happy to help, but I really don't think I'd be any use to you with the merchant's guild."

Varric coughed, then stretched out his hands across the table, pulling hers away from her ale and holding them firmly in the grip of his leather gloves. "It's not that sort of partnership I had in mind, babe," he said, and Hawke could swear her jaw dropped open.

"Alright, who put you up to this? Was it Isabela? She's probably watching right now, isn't she?"

Varric looked confused. "Isabela? I was thinking more a duet than a trio, but if that's what you wanna go for, then I guess I'm willing to try. Anything to keep you happy." He smiled, and kept a tight hold on her hand.

"This isn't a joke, then?"

"By the Ancestors, Hawke, would I joke about something as important as love?" He had yesterday, and the day before that, and every time they passed the Blooming Rose or saw Donnic on patrol, but he looked so hurt by her insinuations she decided not to bring it up.

"I guess it is a little funny," he said, gazing across at her. "I always thought it would be a dwarven woman who'd finally win my heart. Still, makes for a better story this way - the Champion of Kirkwall, beautiful yet deadly, and the handsome dwarven merchant who falls for her charms. Who'll see that twist coming."

"Certainly I didn't," she muttered, and pulled her hand from Varric's grasp. "Varric, if this is a joke, then I congratulate you for getting Sebastian to play along."

"Playing with Chantry Boy?" His brow furrowed. "I'm not sure, Hawke, Rivaini is fine, but he might be a deal-breaker."

"If it's not a joke," she pressed on, "then ... then I don't know what's come over you, but I'm going to come back tomorrow and we'll try this all over again, and hopefully everything will make more sense." She almost ran from Varric's suite and out of the Hanged Man, while his shouts echoed after her.

"Is it Bianca? I swear, Hawke, there's nothing going on! Bianca will share!"

*

The walk from Lowtown back to her mansion seemed even longer that on the way there, especially since she'd left her half-finished ale in the Hanged Man. It was dark by the time she returned, and she didn't see the figure lurking in the shadows outside her door until he stepped out in front of her.

"Fenris, you scared the life out of me. Do you have to do that? You're always welcome to wait inside."

Fenris shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, bare feet kicking up dust in the street. How long had he been waiting for her to return? She hoped whatever he wanted, she could deal with it quickly, but she hadn't the heart to turn him away.

"Hawke." Her name seemed to stop his train of thought, and he just stared at her for long moments, with an intensity that made her feel uncomfortable. And, she admitted to herself, a little shivery. There was something appealing about his broody, smouldering demeanour, even if they spent more time arguing than making friendly conversation.

"You have been good to me," he said, recovering his voice. "Danarius is dead, thanks to your help. I am truly a free man."

"Danarius deserved to die," she said. They hadn't spoken much of his death. Fenris seemed unwilling to discuss the death of his former master, and the sister who betrayed him, and Hawke was content to let him brood. She knew he'd unburden himself when the time was right, and it appeared that time was now.

"All the magisters of Tevinter deserve a painful death, and yet he is the only one you have killed. A battle with a blood mage is not to be undertaken lightly. I ... I had not thought to find anyone willing to fight for me, Hawke. And now I have found you, I find I can think of little else."

There was a sinking feeling of familiarity in the pit of her stomach, as she looked at Fenris' expression. Was she misreading him, or was he really saying what she thought he was saying? She'd always been careful not to flirt with Fenris, not to give him a hope of something that wasn't there, but maybe that hadn't been enough.

Fenris sighed and muttered something in Tevinter, then closed the distance between them to kiss her.

Her back was crushed up against the wall, Fenris' spiked gauntlets twisting through her hair as he pressed his mouth to hers, forceful and in control, and she kissed him back despite herself. Something was wrong, she should stop and slow down and find out what was going on, but Fenris wrapped one powerful arm around her waist and swiped his tongue against her lips, and where and when had he learned to do that? She gave herself over to the kiss, putting her own arms around Fenris' lean, armoured frame, sinking into his embrace and the way his body was pressed up against hers...

No. She pushed Fenris away, and he looked at her with confusion and hurt in his eyes. That wasn't the look of a man playing a practical joke.

"This isn't right, Fenris. There's something going on - you and Sebastian and Varric. You don't mean this. You don't want this."

"You cannot tell how I should feel, Hawke," he snarled, then pulled back. "I ... I should not have done that. I should go." He turned, disappearing back into the shadows before she had a chance to call him back.

*

She barely slept that night, worrying about Fenris. Sebastian's overtures had been almost funny, Varric's only mildly alarming, but Fenris' face as she pushed him away lingered in her mind. She'd not intended to toy with his feelings, knowing how seriously he took their friendship, but despite all that she knew she'd hurt him. And the question of just what was going on went round and round in her head, but since the only logical conclusion was ludicrous, she couldn't quite bring herself to believe it.

The fountain. It all started after she threw that thrice-damned coin in the fountain, but fountain wishes never came true. If they did, Bethany would have had a purple pony when she was seven, and all the ice-cream she could eat. She hadn't wished for this, anyway - she never wanted Sebastian and Varric and Fenris to start declaring their love, she's asked for Anders alone, asked for him to come and tell her that he loved her and that he'd never leave her.

Stupid fountain. She had to break the spell, and quickly, before she hurt any more of her friends.

She tossed and turned until morning. She'd go and retrieve the coin - if that didn't break the spell, at least she'd have the coin. Maybe Anders would be able to help, if she could bring herself to tell him what she'd done without dying of embarrassment.

Anders was waiting outside her front door, and he jumped at her footsteps.

"Marian!" he said, looking earnest. "I need to tell you something. Something I should have said a long time ago."

"Wait," she said, holding up a hand. "Let me guess - you're about to declare that you love me?" His face fell, and she felt something twist in her gut. She couldn't bear to hear him say it, not when it wasn't real.

She sighed, once again. "Don't worry. It's a spell. I'll fix it-" maybe Merrill would help, now Anders had succumbed to the spell, "-and you won't love me any more, and it'll just be terribly, terribly embarrassing for all of us." Her voice almost broke on "love", when she saw Anders' face, but she pushed on. Better to be brutal and fix this now, and go back to awkward unrequited love later.

She swept on through Hightown, Anders trailing in her wake, and heard familiar voices ahead of her.

"C'mon, Hawke doesn't want to be a princess. Give up adventuring to wear awful dresses and mind her language? Not a chance!"

"I would not change her for the world, Varric. She can stand beside me as the Champion, and Starkhaven will welcome her."

Fenris saw them as they approached and glared, but not at her. "I should have known the mage would be here. Does the abomination also profess his love?" he sneered, and Anders stepped up to face him.

"I do. And it seems I'm not alone," Anders said, nodding at Varric and Sebastian, who were doing their best to glower at the others. Fenris was winning that particular contest. Hawke allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sight of four handsome men fighting over her affections, then remembered her task.

"No one here is in love." _Except me._ "It's a spell, I'll fix it, and you can all stop trying to outdo yourselves for my hand in marriage, or whatever this fight is all about," she said, moving quickly on towards the fountain. They followed along, bickering, and she wondered if she'd have to break up a fight before she got there.

Hightown was mercifully quiet at this time of day, and the fountain was deserted when she reached it.

"A fountain. Very romantic, Hawke," said Varric. "This'll sound great when I write it down."

"Nice of you to say so, Varric" said Anders. He was smiling softly, in a way that made her heart melt. Stupid fountain. "I'm sure the tale of Hawke and her handsome apostate will be a best-seller."

Fenris swore again, pacing restlessly. "You stand no chance, mage," he said.

"And you do?"

Fenris scoffed. "I do not presume to know Hawke's mind, but I know this: you are an abomination and a danger to us all. I understand why Hawke tolerates you, I cannot understand why you think she would choose you over a warrior and a merchant and a prince." Fenris' tone was vicious, and Anders recoiled, biting his lip.

"Enough, all of you," she said, but they ignored her, and she worried they might come to blows. She took the only action she could think of - she knelt at the edge of the fountain and started searching for her coin. Luckily, there were few coins in the fountain - most Hightown families weren't the sort to be making wishes, when they had the money and the power already - and she sifted through them quickly, looking for the distinctive green tarnish on the one she'd thrown in. Behind her, she could hear Fenris and Sebastian, their voices raised, with the occasional interjection from Varric. Anders, she couldn't hear at all, and she glanced behind her to see him standing off to one side, downcast and defeated.

At last, almost hidden under the statue, she found her coin and grasped it. A shiver ran up her arm, and she welcomed it, hoping it was a sign that there was magic here she could break. She pulled back, splashing water over herself, and held the coin aloft.

There was no flash of light or clap of thunder. Her friends just stared at her, silent, with looks of confusion on their faces.

"I should return to the Chantry, for morning prayers," said Sebastian, clearly puzzled about what he was doing in the middle of Hightown. "I- I feel in need of the Maker's guidance. Good day, Hawke."

Varric followed him. "I can't decide whether to go write this down, or forget it even happened. Either way I need a drink. I'll catch you later, Hawke?" She nodded, thankful that he was willing to put off the inevitable awkwardness for a little while.

Fenris was not so easy. He paced up to her, grimacing. "This was magic?" She nodded. "I should have known. What is there that magic cannot spoil?"

"I'm sorry, Fenris," she said, quietly. "It was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He nodded and paused, clearly gathering his thoughts. "My actions were not entirely down to the spell, Hawke." He looked uncomfortable with the admission. "But I would never have presumed."

He deserved her honesty in return. "In another life, maybe it would have been different. But this isn't for me, Fenris." He glanced at Anders, who was still waiting by the fountain, and she nodded.

"I understand. I ... need some time." He stalked off, and she resisted the urge to run after and comfort him. She hoped time would be enough.

She could hardly bear to look at Anders, but she owed him for what she'd put him through. She sat down next to him, perched on the edge of the fountain.

"Can I see it?" he asked, and she handed him the coin.

"It's from Tevinter. I thought it might be," he said, examining it. "Most likely place to find unlikely objects with strange enchantments. Bad things to throw into fountains and make a wish on."

Stupid coin, then. Not the fountain. "How do you know?" she asked, grateful for the distraction.

"Arcanum, see?" He pointed at the words around the edge, half-covered in tarnish.

"You can speak Arcanum?"

He nodded. "Don't tell Fenris," he said. "He wouldn't enjoy swearing so much." He smiled, and she couldn't bear it. Why wasn't he furious with her? She'd cast a spell on him, made him look like a fool chasing her through the streets of Hightown, and he was making jokes as though she hadn't done anything.

She sniffed. "They're all going to hate me, aren't they?"

He shook his head. "They'll come round. Besides, they won't remember it all that clearly. Magic does funny things."

"But you remember."

He scratched his neck. "Yes, well, I have a bit of help. Justice, it turns out, is very good at resisting spells, and then reminding me of exactly what I did. He doesn't exactly approve. Thinks you're a distraction from our cause."

"A distraction?" She smiled. Anders shifted to wrap an arm gently around her waist, and she let him pull her closer. Maker knew she could do with a hug, and at least this time it was his choice.

"Very distracting," he said, from somewhere over her head. Then, quietly: "Marian, what did you wish for?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she said, resting her head on his chest.

"Could you spell it out for me? Just so I'm totally clear," he said. She looked at him to see if he was teasing, but he was nervously biting his lip. Not saying anything had got her into this mess, hadn't it? Maybe one more embarrassing expression of love was what this whole thing needed.

"I wished for you, Anders. I wished that you'd love me."

He gently stroked his thumb across her cheek. "You didn't need to wish for that, love," he murmured, and leaned in to kiss her.

He was nothing like Fenris, all softness and slow, easy kisses, his tongue exploring her mouth while her hands tugged at the feathers of his pauldrons and encircled his waist under his coat. He smelled like the elfroot he picked wherever they went, and she breathed it in, resting her head on his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of having him so close she could feel his breath on her neck and his hands pressed warmly at her back. She didn't know how long they stayed there, exchanging kisses that started lazy and grew more urgent, making up for the years she had wasted without him.

Anders pulled away first, breathing heavily, and looked away from her. "You know about Justice. You know I could lose control, that I could hurt you, that I..."

She shushed him. "I know you, Anders. I've known you for years." He still held back, fearful. "And I know you would do anything to keep me safe. I won't give up on what we both want for fear of what you might become. I love you," she said, amazed at how right it felt to say that. "Now kiss me again?"

He cupped her jaw in his hand. "I can't resist you," he said, and did as she asked. Thoroughly, until Lord Weber's servants came out and shooed them away, and she dragged him back to her mansion hand in hand. There was a lot of lost time to make up for, and she intended to start right now.

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt:'Inspired by "When in Rome" (movie). F!Hawke is bitter because she can't have Anders (or Sebastian, he's hard to get too), makes a wish (or gets some coins out of a fountain) and all of the sudden three male interests (or more) start pursuing her rather aggressively/eagerly/obsessively. Funny and/or sexytimes ensue.'
> 
> Since neither I nor the OP had seen the film, it doesn't really stick to the plot.


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